Joe Epstein/The Star-LedgerU.S. District Judge William J. Zlooh helps The Honorable Robert Kirsch put on his robe after taking the oath of office at the Union County Superior Courthouse in Elizabeth.UNION COUNTY -- On the day he resigned as an assistant U.S. attorney, Robert Kirsch had one last case to finish up. A guy who had headed up a major identity-theft ring targeting one of the nation’s largest mortgage companies was being sentenced.

Afterward, Kirsch, 43, loaded the final boxes from his office into his Jeep and drove from Newark to the Union County Courthouse, where he was quietly sworn in that afternoon as a judge of the Superior Court.

The move, just six miles away, could not have been more stark. After more than 12 years as a federal prosecutor handling white-collar crime, Kirsch is now a judge in Family Court on what is known as “the DYFS docket,” focusing on arguments over the termination of parental rights, in cases sometimes involving young kids, mentally ill parents and horrific stories of neglect and abuse.

“The subject matter is filled with despair and difficulty,” Kirsch reflected last week in his small, sparsely furnished chambers off the second-floor rotunda of the old courthouse in Elizabeth. “But it is an opportunity to change the life of a child and of a family for the better, maybe forever.”

Joe Epstein/The Star-LedgerGov.Christopher J. Christie congratulates the Honorable Robert Kirsch after Kirsch took the oath of office at the Union County Superior Courthouse in Elizabeth, NJ. Kirsch, who first donned the robes of a judge in a private ceremony attended by his family in January, was formally sworn in Friday, surrounded by friends and former colleagues.

The oath was administered by the state Chief Justice Stuart Rabner, another one-time federal prosecutor who is a friend, in a ceremony that included their former boss, Gov. Chris Christie.

Kirsch grew up in South Orange and played varsity basketball for Columbia High School in Maplewood. His primary contribution there, he said, was to ensure that a seat on the bench was kept at body temperature for when one of the starters needed a rest. Kirsch attended Emory University and graduated from Fordham University School of Law.

His judicial nomination in January by Gov. Jon Corzine had been sponsored by state Sen. Thomas Kean Jr. (R-Union). Kean had been introduced to him by a mutual friend, attorney Henry Klingeman, who had gone to law school with Kirsch. Joking at the ceremony on Friday, Klingeman — a high-profile federal defense attorney — said the two remained friends even on opposite sides of the same cases.

“Robert prosecuted. I capitulated,” Klingeman said, recalling other times when Kirsch would call from rock concerts and hold his cell phone in the air, just to let Klingeman know he had scored a hot ticket.

A hockey fan, Kirsch has a Devils bobblehead doll in his office, along with a Takamine acoustic guitar that he sometimes plays, and a large framed photo of singer Jackson Browne. Another photo of his late father, Ned, a longtime trial attorney, sits on his desk.

As an assistant U.S. attorney, Kirsch prosecuted a number of high-profile white-collar cases. Among them was the case against Charles “Chip” Hoffecker, a Florida con man described as “a true kingpin of telemarketing fraud.” He was sentenced to more than 17 years in prison for scamming at least $14 million from gullible investors. The cash went directly to pay for expensive cars and a luxury lifestyle in Florida, financed through secret bank accounts.

Another involved Wayne Puff, who presided over a $100 million real estate Ponzi scheme by inflating profits and forging mortgage documents. Many investors lost their life savings. One victim allegedly lost $10 million.

HEARTBREAKING TALES

The cases Kirsch now hears as a Superior Court judge are not about money. They are about failing families, lost kids and the terrible things that sometimes go on in dysfunctional homes.

Judge Karen Cassidy, the Union County assignment judge, said the cases are often not pleasant. “It is a very heart-wrenching and difficult docket,” she said of the cases being brought by the state Division of Youth and Family Services.

They call it the DYFS (pronounced “Dye-fiss”) docket.

Kirsch said the decisions involving child abuse, neglect and termination of parental rights are some of the hardest any judge has to render. While he would not discuss any particular case because of confidentiality rules of Family Court, he said they often involved drug-addicted parents, grandparents unable to cope, or foster families unsuited to the task of raising children.

He currently has more than 100 cases involving abuse and neglect, plus 20 other petitions to take kids away from their parents.

One of his first cases involved a 10-year-old whose mother had a long-standing cocaine and heroin addiction. An older sibling had been abused and was in juvenile detention for assault and robbery. The younger one barely attended school.

The cases come from all corners of the county. “I have had the homeless in here, and families of investment bankers, and everything in between,” said Kirsch.

The testimony in his plain courtroom — far from the ornate chambers of the federal courthouse in Newark, with its painted blue walls, oak benches and suspended ceiling — can turn dark. Kirsch, married with two kids, would not admit directly to being emotionally affected by what he hears, but he said it leaves a mark on everyone in the courtroom.

“There have been horrific, indescribable acts of abuse and neglect that are difficult to reduce to words,” he remarked. “You would have to be inhuman to sit through some of those cases without feeling profound sadness for everyone concerned.”

At the same time, he said, there are no easy answers from the bench. DYFS workers, law guardians for the kids, and lawyers for the parents or caretakers are often at odds. The benchmark is what may be in the best interest of the child, but getting there is not a black-and-white decision, he said.

“It’s not like Judge Judy,” Kirsch remarked. “These cases are not wrapped up neatly with a bow on them in half an hour — or sometimes ever.”